


The Rules for Taking Turns

by hummerhouse



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7767919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummerhouse/pseuds/hummerhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by hummerhouse<br/>Disclaimer: The TMNT are not mine. No money being made.<br/>Word Count: 3,864 One shot 2k12<br/>Rating: G<br/>Summary: A trilogy of turtle tales featuring the eight year old turtles.</p>
<p>~~This is a gift fic for JadeKitsune's son DJ.  Hope you like this DJ!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rules for Taking Turns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JadeKitsune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeKitsune/gifts).



** Can You Do This? **

            “Ha!  That was easy,” young Raphael proclaimed.  “Can you do this?”

            Master Splinter rose from the floor of his room and walked to the door, sliding the screens apart ever so slightly.  Peering out into the dojo, he observed his eight year old sons playing a game they’d made up, aptly called ‘can you do this’.

            He rarely let himself be seen by them as they played their game.  His presence made them self-conscious, each vying for their father’s attention.  Master Splinter liked to watch them play as brothers, none of them attempting to show off for their father.

            Raphael planted his palms on the floor and lifted his legs into the air, walking forward on his hands before flipping back onto his feet.  Fists on his hips, Raph grinned expectantly at his brothers.

            “That’s even easier,” Michelangelo sang out, mimicking his brother’s maneuver and even lifting one hand from the floor before regaining his feet.

            The other two boys responded easily to the challenge and then Leonardo said, “My turn.  Can you do this?”

            Standing with his legs together and arms at his sides, Leonardo bent at the knees and sprang into the air, reaching up to clap his hands over his head.  As he came down, Leonardo spread his legs and landed in a perfect side split, keeping his balance without touching his hands to the floor.

            Master Splinter noticed that Donatello seemed to grimace just a little at seeing Leonardo’s trick.  It wasn’t because the turtle was any less flexible than his brothers.  Master Splinter knew that it was due to the fact that Donatello had sprouted in height and his longer legs presented something of a challenge these days.

           Despite that difficulty, Donatello managed the trick.  Raphael and Michelangelo performed it as well, their victorious laughter a melodious sound to their father.

            “Okay, okay, my turn,” Donatello called quickly, speaking over Michelangelo for dibs on the next trick.  “Can you do this?”

            Running forward, Donatello leaped skyward, turning in midair.  As his body came around he bent at the waist, keeping his legs together and straight in front of him as he touched his toes.  Coming down he twisted his body again and landed in a push up position on his hands and toes.

            “I can do it,” Leonardo said as Donatello finished.  Taking a deep breath, he darted across the floor and copied Donatello’s routine perfectly.

            Both Michelangelo and Raphael did it as well.  Raphael even did a few push-ups upon landing.

            “I get to pick now,” Michelangelo said emphatically.  “Can you do this?”

            Sitting on the floor with his legs in front of him, Michelangelo turned his hands so that his fingers pointed backwards and placed his palms against the floor to either side of his thighs.  With great care he lifted his body from the floor, bending at the waist but keeping his legs straight as he touched his knees to his beak.

            Then just as slowly, he lowered his legs and without touching his feet to the floor, swung his legs down and between his outstretched arms.  Spreading his legs, he lifted them into the air, executing a perfect hand stand before reversing the procedure until he was once again seated on the floor.

            His brothers stared at him for a moment and then Donatello said, “Nuh uh, can’t do that.  No one can do that but you Mikey.  We don’t bend like that.”

            “Rules are you gotta do stuff the rest of us have a chance of doing too,” Leonardo announced firmly.

            “I can do it,” Raphael said, a determined expression on his face.

            “No you can’t.  You aren’t that flexible,” Donatello told him.

            “I am too,” Raphael said stubbornly.  “Watch me.”

            Master Splinter gripped the edge of the door, but otherwise stayed hidden.  Michelangelo was gifted with an unusual spinal configuration that allowed him to move in ways his brothers could not achieve.  That and his natural athleticism had often caused Raphael moments of pique where he refused to acknowledge that his youngest brother was in any way different.

            Dropping to the floor, Raphael assumed the same beginning position as Michelangelo’s.  Moving with identical deliberation, Raphael began to lift his body from the floor and with great care got his knees up to his beak.

            A small grin painted the corners of his mouth as Raphael brought his legs down, tilting forward to slide them between his arms.  His feet had just begun to lift again when Raphael started to wobble.

            “Ow, Ow, OW!” Raphael suddenly cried out in pain.  “Cramp!”

            Unable to move, Raphael’s eyes widened as the floor flew up at his face.

            Darting towards his brother, Leonardo caught him just before Raphael smacked face first into the floor.  Writhing on the carpet, Raphael continued to groan as Leonardo and Donatello worked to rub the cramp from his legs.

            It had taken great will power not to rush to his son’s aid, but Master Splinter knew that some lessons were better learned the hard way.

            Michelangelo stood with his arms behind his shell, rocking back and forth on his heels as he smiled down at Raphael.

            “I knew you couldn’t do it,” Michelangelo said with youthful complacency.

            Finally able to move again, Raphael glared at him before saying, “Fine, you win.  I can’t do it.”

            As Michelangelo danced a little jig, Master Splinter observed the obstinate look on Raphael’s face and then heard him mutter, “Yet.”

 

** Once Upon a Time **

            “Once upon a time, there were four brothers who were all eight years old,” Leonardo began, keeping his voice low.

            “That’s us,” Michelangelo piped up helpfully.

            “’Course that’s us doofus,” Raphael said, nudging his brother with an elbow.

            The children were nestled together on a pile of mattresses that served as their shared bed.  It was after lights out and they were supposed to be going to sleep.  Since they couldn’t quite manage to settle down, Leonardo had proposed they tell a story, each taking turns in its production.

            “Together the boys walked through the tunnels looking for stuff to take home,” Leonardo continued.  “Suddenly the ground started to shake and water sloshed everywhere and got the brothers all wet.”

            “I hate when that happens,” Michelangelo interrupted again.

            “We all hate when that happens,” Donatello said.  “Shh, it’s still Leo’s turn.”

            “They didn’t know what was happening but it sounded like something really big was coming towards them,” Leonardo went on as though his brothers hadn’t broken in.  “All four of them grabbed their weapons and got ready.”

            “We don’t get to carry weapons yet,” Raphael said.

            “In my story we do,” Leonardo told him, awarding his brother with a stern look.

            “That’s dumb,” Raphael countered.

            “It’s make believe Raph,” Donatello said, hoping to divert an argument that would bring Master Splinter in to check on them.  “You can say whatever you want when it’s your turn.”

            “I’m gonna say that Leonardo is lame,” Raph said.  “He’s Lame-onardo.”

            “Whatever,” Leo replied, refusing to let Raph get a rise out of him.  “Even though they had water in their eyes, the turtles saw the top of the tunnel in front of them suddenly fly away, like it had been ripped off by something.”

            Mikey slid closer to Raph, eyes wide.  He loved scary stories but always reacted to them by clinging to one of his brothers.

            For once Raph didn’t behave rudely, too curious now to care that Mikey was crowding him.  Leo could see the avid expression on Raph’s face and was pleased with himself for drawing his brother’s attention.

            “Before they could move, a gigantic hand reached through the opening and grabbed Raph!” Leo exclaimed, drawing another ‘shh’ from Don.

            “Hey,” Raph protested.  “How come he got _me_?”

            “’Cause you were yelling at him,” Leo explained, his voice low again.

            “How could I yell at him if I didn’t see him?” Raph asked.

            “You always yell,” Mikey said.  “You yell at everything.  You even yell at nothing.”

            “Can we please get on with the actual story?” Don asked sharply.

            “Wait ‘til it’s my turn,” Raph mumbled under his breath.

            “His brothers jumped up and caught onto the hand as it pulled Raph out of the tunnels,” Leo said.  “Then Raph started stabbing the hand with his sai and the giant yelled and opened his hand and all four turtles jumped to the ground.”

            “That’s better,” Raph said.

            “The giant tried to stomp them then and Leo yelled ‘attack!’ and his brothers did what he said,” Leo intoned.  “Don’s turn.”

            “How come you get to give the order to attack?” Raph asked.  “I was the one who jumped him first.”

            “Don’s turn,” Leo responded emphatically.

            “When the giant’s foot came down, Leo, Mikey, and Raph leaped on it and attacked it with their weapons,” Don said, continuing the story.  “Donnie held back; he knew the giant was too big to fight like that.  He studied the giant and took measurements so he’d know its exact size.”

            “And then it died from boredom,” Raph interposed.

            “At least then it would be _quiet_ ,” Don shot back.  “While Don was figuring out the giant’s size, it shook its foot and all three of his brothers fell off.  When the giant tried to stomp them again, Don jabbed its foot with his bo staff and the giant started hopping around in pain.”

            “Poor giant,” Raph said.  “I’m feeling pain too.  From Don’s storytelling.”

            “Could you at least act like you know the rules of the story game?” Leo asked, frowning at Raph.

            “Isn’t that what we keep you around for?” Raph retorted.  “Mister rules expert.”

            “Then Don yelled to Mikey that they needed to use the chain on his kusarigama to trip the giant,” Don said.  “Mikey tossed one end of his kusarigama to Don who caught it and together they rushed at the giant’s ankle and stretched it out behind him.”

            “And the giant crushed both of them ‘cause he was too heavy to trip,” Raph said.

            “He was already off balance from hopping around,” Don said, fixing Raph with a glare.  “Try to keep up.”

            “Try not to put me to sleep then,” Raph told him.  “I want my turn.”

            “Go on Donnie, I want to know what happened,” Leo said, encouraging his brother to ignore Raph’s jibes.

            “I wanna know too,” Mikey said in agreement.

            Making a face at Raph, Don resumed his part of the story.  “The giant was holding his hurt foot and hopped back right against the chain Don and Mikey were holding.  He was really huge but they dug their feet into the ground and tripped him.”

            “Yay for us!” Mikey yelled.

            All three of his brothers turned to him, fingers on their lips.  “Shh!”

            “Sorry,” Mikey said contritely, repeating quietly, “Yay us.”

            “The giant was so huge, his head was hidden by the clouds, so it took forever for him to fall,” Don said.

            “Just like it took forever for you to tell this story,” Raph said.  “My turn.”

            “Don, are you through?” Leo asked.

            “I said ‘my turn’,” Raph proclaimed.

            “Not until Don yields the story,” Leo said gravely.  “Those are the rules.”

            Raph opened his mouth to argue but Don spoke up swiftly.  “I give the story over to Raph now.”

            Pushing at Mikey to make some room, Raph said, “So the giant hit the ground and almost landed on Don and Mikey who were too stupid to get out of the way.”

            “Are not,” Mikey said with a pout.

            “Raph wasn’t in the mood to keep saving them all night, so he jumped on the giant and started stabbing it in the neck,” Raph said, using his arms to exhibit stabbing motions.

            His brothers all scooted a little further away, knowing that Raph like to gesture wildly while he told a story.

            “Watch it with the b-l-o-o-d before bedtime,” Leo warned, spelling it out of habit.

            “I know how to spell blood Leo,” Mikey said.  “I like how Raph tells his stories.”

            “I like not to wake up because you’re having a nightmare,” Don said.

            “I’m not gonna have a . . . .” Mikey began.

            “The giant couldn’t handle Raph’s vicious attack and started wiggling around on the ground,” Raph said, talking over Mikey.  “Lame-onardo was standing there all frozen because he didn’t know what to do and the giant almost smashed him into a _bloody_ pancake except for Raph jumped down and pushed Lame-onardo out of the way.”

            “That is not my name,” Leo said.  “You can stop saying it.”

            “Does it bother you Lame-onardo?” Raph teased.

            “The rule is that if you don’t get on with your part of the story you automatically yield to the next brother,” Don said with a pompous air.

            “I don’t yield,” Raph said.  “Because Raph had to save _Leo_ , the giant had the chance to stand up again.  He growled just like a lion and looked down at the turtles and said, ‘I’m going to eat all of you, starting with the little one.’  When he said that he reached for Mikey.”

            “Eep!” Mikey squeaked, lifting his hands to his mouth.  “Don’t let him eat me, don’t let him eat me.”

            “Seeing the giant was going to eat his little brother, Raph stabbed it in the hand and then yelled at Leo to move his shell and start slicing,” Raph said.  “It was only after Raph told him what to do that Leo finally got with the program and helped fight the giant.”

            “And Mikey was saved,” Mikey inserted.

            “Not your turn,” Raph said, scowling at his younger brother.

            “Is too,” Mikey said.  “You went over.”

            “Did not,” Raph said.

            “You did,” Leo him.  “Be fair or you lose a turn next time.”

            “Says who?” Raph asked menacingly.

            “We all do,” Don said.  “Fair’s fair, Raph.”

            Raph huffed.  “Fine.  Only ‘cause we can’t stay up all night.”

            Mikey sat up on the bed and surveyed his brothers with bright eyes.  “Mikey was saved but the city was still in danger.  It was up to the turtles to stop the evil giant.”

            “Don’t bounce around,” Don warned him.

            “The wind started to whip all around them, making it hard for the turtles to stand up straight,” Mikey said, swaying in illustration.

            “What happened, did the giant fart?” Raph asked.

            “Eww,” Leo said, curling his upper lip.  “Don’t be gross Raph.”

            “He belched,” Mikey said with a grin.  “It smelled really bad too, like guts and trash and the stuff Raph leaves in the potty after he has a tummy ache.”

            “See what you started,” Don told Raph.

            “Mikey . . . .” Leo said warningly.

            “Okay, okay.  So the turtles leaned into the wind and then pounced on the giant’s legs and started climbing.  They had to use long, pointy spikes and shove them into his skin and blood trailed down his legs and he screamed and started running,” Mikey said, leaning forward to hover over his brothers

            “I like that part,” Raph said.

            “He’s going to scare himself,” Leo declared.

            “No I’m not,” Mikey said.  “Even though the giant was running really fast, the turtles kept climbing.  They were aiming for his heart ‘cause they knew they had to stab it to kill him and stop him from smashing any more humans.  He already killed like a bazillion of them.”

            “That’s not a real number,” Don said snidely.

            “Sure it is,” Mikey avowed.  “There were so many smashed humans that there was nothing but guts and entrails everywhere.”

            “Where did he learn that word?” Leo asked with disapproval.

            “Not from me,” Don quickly assured him.

            “Keep going,” Raph said, obviously delighted at the negative reaction Mikey’s part of the story was having on Leo and Don.

            “They made it to his heart,” Mikey said, using a climbing motion to show how it was done.  “All four brothers started stabbing him, even Leo who used those long blades he’s always drooling over ‘cause they went in deeper than anything.  Blood spurted out everywhere and made a river.”

            “Have you been telling him what to say Raph?” Leo asked accusingly.

            “I’m not even talking,” Raph replied.  “Not my fault he’s bloodthirsty.”

            “The giant slows down and then stops running. He’s moving slower and slower and the turtles keep stabbing until suddenly the giant dies and falls over!” Mikey exclaimed, rocking back in his excitement.

            The movement sent him toppling off the bed and he hit the floor with a loud thump.

            “Get him back up here quick,” Leo hissed, looking towards the door.

            As Mikey sat up Raph leaned over the bed and grabbed his arm.  Popping up next to the bed, Mikey yelled triumphantly, “The end!”

            The door to their bedroom opened and Master Splinter stepped inside.

            “It sure is,” Leo said, seeing the look on their father’s face.

 

** Chores **

            When the day’s practice session ended the four turtle children bowed respectfully to their father and awaited his dismissal.

            “Do not forget to do your chores before anything else,” Master Splinter reminded them.  “Duty comes first.”

            “Hai sensei,” the boys sang out all at once.

            “You may go,” Master Splinter said.

            As they scampered quickly from the dojo, Master Splinter looked after them with an indulgent air.  He had a feeling that it wouldn’t be long before the squabbling started.  Completing their chores was not at the top of his sons’ list of fun things to do.

            Michelangelo immediately ran for the kitchen.  Reaching his objective, he shoved a stool in front of the sink and climbed up.  He was just plugging the drain when Donatello walked in.

            “What are you doing?” Don asked, striding over to stand next to his brother.

            “I’m washing the dishes,” Mikey told him.

            “No you’re not,” Don stated.  “It’s my turn to wash the dishes.”

            “But I _like_ washing them,” Mikey whined.  “I like to pretend they’re water mutants covered in ooze and I have to clean them.”

            “I like washing them too and I actually get them clean,” Don said.  “Besides, it’s my turn and you can’t jump chores.  That’s Master Splinter’s rules.”

            Sticking out his bottom lip in a pout, Mikey jumped down from the stool and stomped off.  As he exited the kitchen he saw the broom leaning against the wall and quickly grabbed it.  Hopping down in front of the sectional couch he started to sweep.

            “Give that back,” Leonardo said as he leaped down to join his brother.

            “But I’m sweeping up,” Mikey said, hugging the broom handle close to his plastron.

            Leo stuck out his hand.  “I set the broom down so I could get the dustpan.  It’s my turn to sweep.”

            “I like sweeping,” Mikey said.  “I can pretend I’m dancing with the frog princess.”

            “You’ll have to do that without the broom,” Leo said.  “Hand it over.”

            Reluctantly Mikey did so.  Normally he would have balked, but Leo had that certain tone in his voice that didn’t bode well for the younger turtle.

            Nearby, Raphael was pummeling the practice dummy.  When Mikey glanced in his direction he noticed that the feather duster was on the ground next to his brother’s foot.

            Tiptoeing over, Mikey reached out for the duster.  His fingers closed around the handle and he started to pull away, using all of his stealth.

            Before he could escape, Raph snagged his mask tails and yanked Mikey backwards.

            “Drop it before I drop you,” Raph snapped.

            “But you aren’t using it,” Mikey protested.  “I like to dust.”

            “Dusting is my chore,” Raph said.  “I was dusting the dummy with my fists and I’d be happy to dust you with them too.”

            Mikey opened his hand and let the duster drop to the floor.  Raph released him and reached down to grab the duster.

            “You guys are hogging all the fun stuff,” Mikey told him as Raph began flicking the duster at things.

            “Too bad, so sad, glad I’m not you,” Raph said.  “Do your own chore before Master Splinter catches you messing around.”

            “I don’t like my chore,” Mikey proclaimed.  “It’s yucky.”

            “Nobody likes your chore but we all have to do it when it’s our turn,” Raph said.  “If you don’t do it you won’t get to play later.  Now go away.”

            Slumped over, Mikey walked with resignation into the restroom.  He picked up the toilet scrubber and eyed it with distaste before slowly approaching the toilet.  Lifting his leg, he used one toe to ease the toilet lid open and then his face wrinkled in disgust.

            “It is not going to clean itself Michelangelo,” Master Splinter said from behind him.

            Mikey jumped in surprise and spun around to face his father.  “I’m doing my chore!” he announced loudly.

            “Yes, I can see that,” Master Splinter said.  “It seems you took the long route to get here.”

            “I, uh, wanted to see if anyone would trade with me,” Mikey told him.

            “And did they?” Master Splinter asked.

            Mikey’s shoulders sagged.  “No.”

            “That is because it is your turn,” Master Splinter said.  “The tub and toilet for one week.  Please ensure they are clean.”

            With his hands behind his back, Master Splinter turned and left the restroom.  Mikey’s shoulders slumped even lower.  A whole week.  That was an eternity.

            He finally got to work, but only because he knew his brothers would start a game without him if he didn’t finish on time.

            Later that evening Leonardo came out of the restroom and looked around.  When he spotted Mikey he went over to where he brother sat on the floor with a comic book and tapped him on the head.

            “You didn’t replace the toilet paper,” Leo said.

            Mikey’s eyes widened and he quickly got to his feet, racing for the restroom.  Master Splinter saw him speed by and turned to look at Leo.

            “Is something wrong?” Master Splinter asked.

            “He didn’t put toilet paper on the roll,” Leo said.  “That’s part of his job.”

            Before Master Splinter could say anything, Mikey came back out and said, “I remembered, I remembered.  See, there’s a new roll now.”

            Leo fixed him with a stern look.  “My having to remind you doesn’t actually qualify as you remembering,” he said.  “Rules are that if you don’t do your chore, you get stuck with it for an extra week.”

            Both Mikey and Leo stared expectantly at Master Splinter, the former with puppy dog eyes and the latter with a smug expression on his face.

            It seemed a good time for a lesson.  “Sometimes a strict interpretation of the rules does not suit a particular situation,” Master Splinter said.  “Since the paper may not have needed to be replaced earlier, we cannot assume that Michelangelo failed in his duty.  Never make assumptions, Leonardo.”

            Appearing contrite, Leo bowed.  “Hai, sensei.”

            As he left, Master Splinter turned to Mikey.  “What have you learned, Michelangelo?”

            “That Leo’s a tattletale?” Mikey asked.

            Inside Master Splinter was laughing, but he managed to keep a straight face.  “No my son.  That one must always be thorough.”

            “Oh, sure Master Splinter.  That too,” Mikey said.

            “And never forget the toilet paper,” Master Splinter said.

End


End file.
